


Enter Stage Left, Bow

by NeonSauce



Series: a Very Serious Gang doing Very Serious Gang Things such as driving down a mountain in lawnmowers [1]
Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter/Funhaus RPF
Genre: F/M, Fake AH Crew, Fem Jack, I love kerry tho dont get me wrong, Immortal Fake AH Crew, Kerry not included cause i wanted to keep this 6 chapters, Main focus is on the B-Team, Swearing, kinda tho more implied, plus Kerry hasn't been in too much GTA recently
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-17
Updated: 2015-10-09
Packaged: 2018-04-21 04:38:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 8,789
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4815365
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NeonSauce/pseuds/NeonSauce
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which the backstage crew get their time in the limelight after all the work is done.</p><p>It's about god damn time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Four for you Matt Bragg, you go Matt Bragg

**Author's Note:**

> Bruhhhhhh, I swear the wedding thing might be written. Maybe. Prob not. eh fuck it nahhhhh. anyway enjoy matt bragg, my fluffy disgruntled bean man. luv you <3

Matt explodes and wakes up laughing his ass off.

He hasn't had this much fun in _years _, and all of a sudden he doesn't hate Los Santos so much anymore.__

__"I swear to God Matt, if you use any more C-4, I will demote you to drug running!" Geoff yells over the comm system, but Matt can feel the glee in his voice, before Gavin suddenly begins screaming in his ear. A couple feet away Michael doesn't even flinch, just turns the volume down on his own system._ _

__"How the hell are you unaffected by that, you didn't even flinch!" Matt asks, and Michael just grins._ _

__"Trust me rookie, you'll get used to it. The amount of sqwaking this dick does is off the charts." Michael scrolls through his phone as he speaks and picks a song. The armoured car blares to life, startling Matt slightly. "Get in loser, we're going rampaging."_ _

__"Honestly Michael, you have no right to call him a loser if you're the one making fucking Mean Girls references." Jack snarks and Matt bursts out laughing. It's 4 am, the world's on fire, burning as they blow up boats on the beach, 'they' referring to a multi-billion dollar crime syndicate and they're talking about _motherfucking Mean Girls. _____

____The moment is ruined by Stereotypical Cop A yelling at them to get out of the car. Michael checks his rear view mirror and scoffs._ _ _ _

____"Fucker got out of his car."_ _ _ _

____"What a dumbass." Matt agrees, and doesn't even flinch as Michael reverses at full speed, knocking the poor officer who probably had a family into a lamp post at 70 kilometers an hour. The two of them burst into laughter and a small part of Matt feels bad, but the feeling is quickly squashed as a couple of bullets graze the outside of Matt's door._ _ _ _

____"COME GET US YOU GRIMY COCKGUZZLERS" Michael bellows out the window and floors it, grinning wildly at Matt. He doesn't say anything. He doesn't need to. He just grins back, a smile equally maniacal, and he grabs his flare gun. He fires out the window, blindly, not even caring where the flare lands, but he and Michael both yell over the thrumming bass of shitty dubstep as the flare accidentally finds a target in the dead of night._ _ _ _


	2. For the love of Gods

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steffie is tired, hungry and not ready to deal with this bullshit right now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What Steffie, pfft I don't know who that i- *trips and and hundreds of pictures fly into the breeze* wait shit this is for a friend.

Steffie Hardy does not consider herself a Bad Person. Well yeah, she is part of a multi billion dollar crime syndicate, but she’s just finances. She takes the money, splits it evenly, takes a little off the top for herself and that’s it. She might bail people out of jail who kinda sorta totally deserve to be in the there, and she may design heists that destroy property and kill people, but she hasn’t killed anyone in a looooooong time. So Steffie might not be the Best Person, but she certainly isn’t a Bad Person.

Which is why she often find herself asking what the hell she did to deserve this.

“For the love of all things good in this universe - which most certainly does not include any of you - how the fuck did this happen?” She puts as much disapproval in her tone, places her hands on her hips and draws herself up to her full 5”2, hoping to elicit some shame from the six grown ass adults sitting in front of her. Her efforts seem to have some sort of affect, Geoff looks away, Michael and Gavin glance nervously at each other, Jack bows her head and Ray buries his head further in his DS. Silence descends on the room, like a warm, heavy, kinda stinky blanket. Steffie crosses her arms and waits.

“To be fair,” Jack says, breaking the silence and all eyes turn to her. “I just flew the chopper. That was the extent of my involvement. Nothing more, nothing less.”

Hell breaks lose.

“Bullshit!”

“Come off it!”

“Don’t lie to me like this Jack, I thought you loved me.”

Steffie keeps her cool and waits for them to finish.

They keep yelling.

She bites the inside of her cheek and counts backwards from ten, slowly and evenly.

Ryan pulls out a knife.

Steffie draws her gun from her waist and fires two bullets in the air. 

They promptly - and wisely - shut up.

Steffie sighs and massages her temple.

“All I want to know is who decided to take that specific chopper.” She says and the only thing that follows is silence. She looks up at them, they’re just staring at her incredulously. Steffie raises her eyebrow and Ray swiftly but hesitantly raises his hand. “And none of you stopped him?” They all shake their heads, confusion still in their eyes.

“What plan?” Geoff asks and Steffie wonders for about the thirtieth time that day whose God she angered to deserve this, and how to appease them, because Steffie has quite the migraine growing. 

“This was your idea Geoff, you wanted Matt to outfit that chopper - specifically that chopper due the way the engine was manufactured - with dual guns and a lime green paint job. That was going to be the driving force behind our next heist. And now it’s destroyed so I have to wait another six weeks and spend another ten thousand at least to pay for it. But nooooo you decided to use it raid the military base with water guns instead.” Steffie says, bitter and tired, and she collapses into the hideous plaid armchair Ryan insisted on buying. She closes her eyes and all she sees are numbers and expenses and calculations, wait time and schedules that have to be reorganized.

A hand is placed on her shoulder. She looks up into the face of Geoff Lazer Ramsey, who looks like he just saw a bunch of puppies die.

“God Steffie, I wish- I... Fuck.” He sighs, unable to get the words out of his throat. And Steffie remembers that Geoff hasn’t always drowned himself in expensive alcohol, hasn’t always worn bullet proof vests underneath first class suits, hasn’t always driven Ferrari’s off cliffs for shits and giggle. He once had to be the person calculating costs and expenses at three am down to the last cent, making sure that there was enough money for guns but leftovers for food. She looks past Geoff and everyone on the couch looks guilty and ashamed. The anger that had been boiling and boiling since she noticed the missing chopper fades away to something she can’t described. It’s a mix of disgruntled, happy and slightly giddy.

The next day she wakes up to breakfast in bed, flowers and a note informing her that the cops who harassed her outside the bar two weeks before had been taken care of, Vagabond style. Steffie buries her face in the bouquet and wonders what she did to deserve friends like these.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All I know is Steffie is shorter than Jeremy, sorry if I got it wrong. Next up is Trevor!!


	3. Blood, Tears and Spinach

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trevor's got himself in an unfortunate situation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TREYCO MY LOVE 
> 
> this one is a LOT longer than the others.

Trevor has counted a total of two hundred and sixty bumps on the ceiling. Which honestly doesn’t make sense. Last time he counted a hundred thirty five. Which is almost half of two hundred seventy. Wait, two seventy or two sixty? Does it matter? All he has to do is get the calculator on his phone and -

He goes to reach his phone and gets rope burn instead. 

Shit. He forgot. Honestly though, if he’d been able to get his phone for a calculator, he should’ve been able to get it before to play Piano Tiles instead of counting the bumps on the ceiling, because getting a new highscore is far more important due to the fact that Gavin is slowly but surely creeping up on him and if he wants the five hundred bucks they put on that stupid game, he has to improve his score. Which he would be doing right now if some asshole didn’t tie him to a chair after very rudely whacking him with a steel pipe and drugging him - which seems rather excessive- and then throwing him in a white van. Trevor is honestly insulted. He deserves to be at gunpoint, before being forced into the van rather than some crude kidnapping like the one he experienced. When he sees the people who did this to him he’s gonna give them a piece of his mind!

As soon as that thought goes through his head, the buffest man Trevor has ever seen in his life swaggers through the door. He actually fucking swaggers, the stupid sway and everything. Trevor still wants to kick him in the face, but he’d much rather do it with their situations reversed.

“I believe your name is Trevor, correct?” He says while grinning down at Trevor, showing off his gold tooth, which has a piece of spinach on it. Behind him, two sneering idiots enter the room. 

“I believe my name is actually Treyco, T-R-E-Y-C-O. You’re being incredibly sensitive to my wishes of a preferred name. How dare you.” Gold Tooth’s smile falters, the spinach adorned tooth disappearing behind his lip and behind him his cronies look at each other in confusion. Trevor keeps his face perfectly neutral, even as Gold Tooth leans in face too close for comfort. He’s so close, Trevor could probably stick his tongue out and lick the piece of spinach off his tooth and oh god Trevor why on earth would you do that to yourself jesus.

“Alright then shithead, do you have any idea of who the fuck we are?” Goldtooth growls and Trevor can almost taste spinach with the way his hot breath rolls over Trevor's face. He tries not to gag, and makes a mental note to avoid spinach for at least a week after this incident. 

“My worst nightmare.” Trevor says, deadpan and completely neutral, and then gets punched in the face. Gold Tooth’s rippling biceps clearly aren’t for show, Trevor thinks as licks blood off from his newly split lip.

“I bet you’re putting up this little brave face of yours cause you’re so sure that your boss and his tag team of idiots are gonna come save you. Well y’know what? You’re worth nothing to them. All you do is organize and plan heists, take part in deals and that’s it! You’re expendable, replaceable! They don’t care about you. So why should you care about them? Make them pay Trevor. You can show them what they’re missing.” Gold Tooth’s using his trump card too early, he’s desperate, it’s showing in his voice as he paces around the voice. Trevor decides to make the best of it.

He tips his head back and laughs. He fucking cackles from the bottom of his stomach, it’s rich and hearty, with an edge of irony. It’s a good fake laugh, Trevor decides, one of his best judging by the uncomfortable shifting of Goon A. He allows a few tears to escape as he slows his laugh down to a giggle, and looks Gold Tooth in the eye. 

“Motherfucker trust me. If they didn’t want me around, they sure as hell wouldn’t allow my paycheck to be so high. I’ve run jobs, I’ve gotten drunk, I’ve learned more shit about these fuckers that you can ever dream of. Ray enjoys My Little Pony. Geoff cried while reading the Deathly Hallows. Ryan has an obsession with Diet Coke. Jack can eat a Big Mac in two minutes. Gavin used to work on yoghurt commercials. Michael needs glasses, but never wears them. I’ve poured sweat, blood and tears into this gang, and if you think I’m gonna give them up just like that, you’re fucking stupid.” Trevor says, grinning from ear to ear. 

“Also, Gavin owes me a two hundred bucks and a blowjob, so once I’ve collected both my prizes, we can talk and see what we can arrange. Just email me at caleb@achievementhunter.co-” And then Trevor gets a metal bat to his face. There was a definite crack as the bat met his skin, but before Trevor can assess the damage, he gets kneed in the stomach, then smashed on top of his head. 

Gold Tooth is yelling something to his cronies, but Trevor’s head is so fuzzy he can barely hear anything. He just focuses on breathing slowly, in and out, in and out.

He looks up and sees a cart rolling in, which is parked just to his left. Goon B grins at him, and sparks fly from the prongs in his hands. Trevor is not a religious man, no siree, has blown too many men to bits to be one. But he sends a quick prayer to any god listening that his friends hurry the fuck up.

A short electrocution later, he has to give props to them. His throat is sore from screaming, and his body still tingles from the aftermath of the electricity A pair of pliers is shoved in his face, before his hand is grabbed, and he feels the pliers clamp down on the nail. Gold Tooth is up in his face, screaming and yelling, but all Trevor can focus on is the tug his hand, but he’ll stick to his guns. Cause he’ll be damned before he ever gives up his crew.

The nail pulls free and a scream tears from Trevor’s throat. Gold Tooth grins before Trevor feels the pinch of the pliers on his middle finger nail. The process repeats and by his middle finger nail joins the other on the floor. There are tears streaming down Trevor’s face, but he just focuses on breathing through his mouth, steadily in and out, in and out. He’s holding his ground. 

“Well Mr. Tough Guy? D’ya think you’d be so kind as to give us what we’d we like? There’s only so much you can ta-GHHHK” And alas, thus ends Gold Tooth, who died from a bullet through his throat. His body slumps forward and falls on top of Trevor, the smell of spinach flooding his nose. Trevor breathes through his mouth and closes his eyes, as screams and gunfire fill the air. The body is pulled off him and Trevor looks up into the face of a black skull.

Trevor smiles. “Hey Rye.” He says casually - well, as casual as one can be after being tortured. 

“God damn Trevor, you look…” Ryan trails off and shakes his head, before starting on untying Trevor. 

“Sexy?” Trevor asks and Ryan chuckles dryly.

“As always Treyco. ‘Fucked up’ is a good look for you. Patent that shit.” Ryan says, and Trevor laughs, slightly hysterical, but relieved. Ryan throws him over his back, fireman style and Trevor doesn’t bother resisting. He closes his eyes and buries his face in Ryan’s leather jacket, and falls asleep to the panicked yells, gunfire and the smell of leather. 

He wakes up some time later, covered in a blanket in the back of a moving vehicle. Panic flares, because not twenty-four hours ago he was in a situation similar to this, but Trevor relaxes when the hand begins to caress his hair. He doesn’t bother to look and see who it is, and simply falls asleep once again, safe at last.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jeremy's next! Hope the spinach things wasn't too over done!


	4. Blocked

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jeremy's a little frustrated. And stressed. And murderous. Okay, maybe he's a little more than frustrated.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SMOL SON (Grenou is the community member who composes the music for all his raps, and I want to give them credit, because Grenou has been doing that since Jeremy started the epic rap battle of RoosterTeeth)

It’s been twenty minutes since Jeremy sat down. Twenty goddamn minutes. and the paper is still blank. Still as pale as Matt, not a single pencil mark on it. Pale as snow. Oh great, now he’s waxing poetic. Which would be fine, if he wasn’t trying to write a rap song. 

Jeremy’s losing his fucking mind.

He’s drawn all over the thing of sticky notes Steffie has in the top drawer in the kitchen. Covered the damn thing in doodles and smiley faces, little characters, little dicks and little characters sucking little dicks. He’s blared music from the top notch speaker system from Germany, heavy metal to rap to fucking polka music (Lindsay what the fuck) even his own music, listening to his stupid Boston accent and the fucking ‘rum’ he entered. He wrote about his feelings, what happened that day, wrote a fucking novella about a man who turns into a horse, he’s done every trick in the goddamn book. But there’s nothing coming to him.

His most happy song was made when he was drunk at three am, free styling as Gavin recorded it, shirtless and out of breath. His most meaningful song was made after his first heist after the heat wore off but the adrenaline was still there, and he was jittering too much to do anything useful, so he sat down and burned it off through alliteration and rhymes. His most aggressive song was made after Trevor’s rescue, after seeing his friend beat up and bloody, anger pouring through him as he began yelling lyrics into his laptop. His best songs were made on the fly, in the spur of the moment, improvised and interrupted with giggles and big gasps of air. Jeremy Dooley was not creatively equipped for proper planning. 

Jeremy hits his head against the table with a groan.

“That doesn’t sound too good. Unless you were jacking off. In which case more power to ya but jesus christ at least do it in your room.” The smell of cologne wafts in from his left, along with the tinny sound of some DS game. Jeremy turns his head to the right and stares mournfully at Ray.

“Raaaay, help meeee. I have to submit lyrics to Gren by Wednesday, and I haven’t even started.” He whines and Ray just blinks at him slowly.

“There’s like, a week until it’s due. Chill out man.” Ray says, turning his attention back to his DS. Jeremy stares at him blankly until Ray looks up at him. The silence stretches on for a couple more seconds before Ray smacks his forehead against the DS. “It’s Tuesday, isn’t it?”

“You’re high aren’t you.” Jeremy states, no question in his tone. Ray simply avoids eye contact and Jeremy sighs. “At least smoke it outside. Is that why you’re wearing cologne? To hide the smell? You aren’t doing a very good job there bud. Steffie is still going slaughter you.”

“Trust me, no one’s gonna notice a thing.”

“What’s up motherfuckers, who's been smoking weed?” Geoff yells from the entrance of the apartment, and what little hope was in Ray’s eyes disappears. Jeremy snorts as Ray stabs the screen of his DS angrily, muttering something about ‘too many goddamn peaches’. Geoff walks into the room, followed by Gavin and Michael, barely being restrained by Jack, both yelling something about memes. Ryan trails behind them, completely silent, focused only on his excessively bloody knife.

“Woah there Lil’ J, you look like shit.” Jack calls over her shoulder and just like that Michael and Gavin’s focus change to Jeremy.

“What’s up there Jerome, you aren’t looking too hot.” Geoff asks, in the casual tone of voice that means he’s trying to sound tough and only mildly curious, when actually he’s entering full dad mode. Jeremy briefly wonders if actually looks that bad, but quickly destroys that thought. He always looks great.

“ ‘M havin’ trouble wif a song.” Jeremy groans into the table. Someone pats his head sympathetically (calloused hands, light touches, most likely Ryan) 

“Writer’s block? Just get someone else to write it for you.” Gavin calls from the kitchen, before promptly stuffing his face with something. Judging by the smell wafting from the kitchen it’s macaroni, only slightly hindered by the scent of weed and old spice. Jeremy turns his head to the side and inhales deeply, because it’s weirdly comforting in a way. There’s words in his head, just on the tip of his tongue, but there’s some otherworldly being fucking with him today, because they get to the tip and stop. Jeremy slams his head against the table, and immediately regrets it. 

“Ow.” He says lamely and judging by the awkward silence that follows, everyone’s looking at each other with concern.

“Seriously J, you might wanna pass this on to someone else this time ‘round.” Geoff says, the concern not even attempting to be hidden in his voice. 

“Last time I tried that I ended up doing it by myself after three days and thirteen different writers. Not even gonna bother.” Jeremy says as he finally lifts his head up from the table. He rubs slowly at one of his eyes. “Fuck it, I’m gonna wing it.”

“...I’m sorry what?” Ryan asks, speaking for the first time that day.

“I’m better at improv. I’ll just get Gren to send me the music, I’ll mix it myself and send the music to Jeff by Friday. No sweat.” Jeremy leans back and stretches, groaning as bones crick in his neck, creating a strange harmony. He looks up and sees everyone staring at him,.

“Jeremy, you don’t have anything written down. How the hell are you gonna get this done by Friday?” Jeremy just grins at Michael in response.  
“You’ll see.”

Later, at four PM on Wednesday, Jeremy will shout out the last lyric to the song as the guitar ends, breathing heavily as silence replaces the space where the music one was. He’ll look over the audio track, judge that it’s pretty even, that all he’ll have to do is double up on a couple of lyrics and he’ll be good. A slow even will applause starts, and he’ll whip around to face Kdin, who will flash him a grin, a thumbs up, and leave.

Even later than that, he’ll sit in a chair across from Meg who flashes him a quick smile before the cameras start rolling. They’ll talk about his new hit single ‘Grand’, about how it went platinum overnight, held number one spot on the radio for a few weeks. He’ll laugh and admit the inspiration was the Fake AH Crew, and Meg will smile back and ask how he was inspired by such a group? They’ll laugh, half fake and half real, because they both know exactly who inspired the song. 

And so all that time later, Jeremy will laugh and clink his glass against Jeff’s, he’ll quickly thank Grenou in his mind, sending him a proper note later, he’ll bask in the afterglow of the success. 

But for now, Jeremy pushes the thought of lyrics to back of his mind. Instead, he walks to the couch, beer in one hand and controller in the other, and he’ll sit and play. 

And at that moment, he’s happy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> By far my fav chapter! Next up is Caleb, Please comment or kudos if you enjoyed it!


	5. No Sick Days For doctors

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> doctor Caleb's in the house.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Frisbee son needs more love. Sorry buddy, you don't die in this one!

For the first time in four years, Caleb debates taking a sick day. His head is stuffy and hazy, he sniffles every five seconds, and his throat is drier than Ray’s sex life before he met Tina. But he can’t take the day off, cause it’s heist day. And everything goes wrong on heist day. So Caleb takes a couple of pills, buys an obnoxious amount of tea, and hunkers down in his undercover medical room. And he waits. 

10 minutes into waiting he buys three packets of Doritos and finishes all of them in less than two minutes. He feels shame wash over him, and he eats an apple. That should balance it out.

20 minutes into waiting he takes his temperature, gets pissed off with the results, and dunks the thermometer into cold water.

30 minutes into waiting he aggressively plays piano tiles, because even after being kidnapped and tortured, Trevor stills holds the number one spot, and no way is he gonna let that cum guzzling piece of shit keep that lead.

40 minutes into waiting he feels really fucking stupid about the thermometer thing cause now that’s broken. Nice going Caleb, you piece of shit.

50 minutes into waiting he allows his head to droop onto the table, and he falls asleep.

He wakes up to cold water being dumped on his head.

“PFFT- FUCKING CHRIST-” He says calmly. He most certainly does not flail, knock the empty packet of Cool Ranch Doritos of the counter, and fall on his ass. Nope. Caleb Denecour is an elegant, coordinated, majestic creature.

“Lindsay’s been hit.” Is all that Gavin says, his voice unusually tight and strained. Caleb’s heart stops for a second, his mind going blank, before he grits his teeth, stands up and storms into the operation room.

Lindsay’s been gently placed on the operation table, her chest barely moving and face pale. Michael’s holding her hand and Geoff’s pacing around the room. Red blossoms from her side, growing darker with every passing second. 

“What’s up Doc?” Lindsay says, a little too breathy and weak to be really Lindsay. Lindsay is loud laughter and subtle smiles, shitty jokes and copious amounts of liquor. Rage bubbles in Caleb’s throat, but he shoves it down and focuses on the task at hand.

“Linds’, I don’t even have to look at the wound to know I have to knock you out for this one. Hold still while I stick you, okay?” Lindsay grimaces, then nods, allowing her head to fall back on the table. Caleb wheels the table covered in scalpels and blood transfusions over to her sides. He picks up the anesthetic, goes to stick her with it, and pauses. “Everyone else has to leave.”

“That’s my wife you’re gonna cut open I don’t fucking think so.” Michael immediately says, an edge to his voice that has Caleb subconsciously flinching back.

“Yes, but I can’t do an operation like this with someone other than a nurse in the room.” He says, more on reflex than anything, instinct from his Doctor days, when he was a Doctor, not a doctor. Big difference those two. Main one being the coffee. He likes Steffie’s coffee. Not the watery shit he used to get when he was Doctor. God his fever’s fucking with him. He shoots off a quick prayer that he’ll be able to get through the surgery without sneezing on Lindsay’s intestines.

Back on 636 Chicken Fang Street, Los Santos, Nevada, United States of America, North America, Earth - where Caleb’s train of thought was definitely absent from - Michael grits his teeth, and moves forward to punch, but Lindsay grabs his wrist.

“C’mon big boy, don’t throw a tantrum. Trust Caleb on this one, k babe?” She says, the special Lindsay edge to her voice that’s ‘honey please, for me?’ complete with fluttering lashes and puckered lips, but has just an edge of ‘listen buddy, do whatever the fuck I want or a pair of scissors going straight up your bunghole.’ Michael’s shoulders sag, and he goes to kiss Lindsay, slow and deep, and when they break apart, there’s a confidence in his eyes Caleb wishes he had.

“Caleb?” Michael says, and Caleb immediately snaps to attention. He places a hand on Caleb’s shoulder and squeezes, there’s no threat there, just reassurance. “I trust you buddy. See you in a bit.” Geoff and Gavin file out behind him, muttering words of confidence and giving gentle pats on his shoulder. The door closes behind him, a soft ‘click’ echoing through the air. Caleb closes his eyes, sucks in a breath, and begins.

It starts with the standard procedure. Two hundred bucks if they can count to ten after Caleb sticks them. To this date, Mica is the only person who’s ever gotten it, and Caleb has refused to operate on her after that, because honestly no fucking way is he gonna poke around in someone who is able to count after being stuck with anesthetic strong enough to kill an elephant. Lindsay loses, of course, and then Caleb gets to work.

He cuts off the fabric around the wound, and surveys the damage. Judging from its entry point, there should be no actual organ damage. But the way the blood is slowly oozing out tells him that the bullet is almost definitely still inside her. He takes ten seconds to judge his best course of action, then the real ‘fun’ part begins. Fun is quotations because despite being both a Doctor and a doctor, Caleb still doesn’t like operations. They’re icky.

It’s a long, complicated surgery. By the time he’s halfway through, Caleb’s dripping sweat, and about to throw up. Most likely because he’s sick, but also because there is a lot more blood than he was expecting. He wiggles the tweezers a bit more, and the bullet finally comes free in a spurt of - guess what? - more blood. He inspects it closely, smells it, and then deems it okay. The one incident involving poison bullets and a very self-sacrificial Matt is engrained into Caleb’s memory. He hasn’t stopped inspecting bullets since then. He then deals with the next part of the surgery, stitching his patient back up.

Lindsay prefers scars. She finds them sexy, and Michael agrees greatly. (“Have you ever seen a scarred tit? Sexy as hell dude.” “STOP I’M GONNA VOM”) And while Caleb is ‘charmingly vanilla’ - as Geoff put it after a drunken discussion on kinks, which led to a substantially sized box of lingerie being delivered to Caleb’s front door, which he appreciated quite a bit - he has no problem leaving a scar on Lindsay’s side. He does make a mental note to inform them that hickies should be a distance of 5 cm away from that scar for at least a month. At least it wasn’t a neck scar. Lindsay sulked the entire Michael was healing. God his crew is fucking weird.

So the stitching up process goes smoothly, he mostly focuses on closing the wound than attempting to not leave marks, which Gavin prefers, because he’s a prick that likes to fuck with Caleb. After the wound is completely sealed, he dresses Lindsay in a hospital gown, deposits his scrubs and her blood stained clothes in the basket behind the door, lays her comfortably on a bed, and sticks her with an IV. Caleb changes into a fresh pair of clothing, and moves to the door to inform the anxious husband in the hall that he heroically saved her life.

Except her never got to the door, because an extraordinarily pissed off Jack bursts into the room.

“Michael shot Gavin.” She announces, then grabs Caleb’s arms and drags him towards operating room two. In that room there are two people screaming at each other (Michael and Geoff), one person ranting to himself (Ray), one person fueling the fight (Ryan), and one person on the floor crying and bleeding (Gavin). Caleb’s brain is still trying to process what’s happening, when Ray suddenly notices his presence.

“Caleb!” He shouts, relief flooding into his voice, and everyone in the room stops, and turns towards him, hope in their eyes. Caleb blinks.

“Um.” He says intelligently, before all of a sudden he’s swept into another bullet removal. There’s problems right off the bat this time.

“Rye-Bread does it all the time, why can’t I?” Gavin snaps, exactly like a little kid, and Caleb is that much closer to whacking him upside the head with the bedpan.

“Ryan has been caught in a gas station explosion before. He’s been kidnapped 34 times, which is 33 more times than you have. And the one time you did get kidnapped was by Joel, which doesn’t count cause it’s Joel.” Caleb paces as he speaks, massaging his temple because this fucking British prick is refusing anesthetic for a bullet in his shoulder. Gavin opens his mouth, and Caleb snaps.

“I need your help.” Everyone jerks in surprise when Caleb slams open the door to the hallway. “Gavin’s refusing anesthetic.” Geoff sighs, grabs Ryan by the arm, and walks into the operating room. Two minutes, several cuss words, and a black eye later, Gavin Free is properly sedated. Caleb thanks his assistants, closes the door, and stares vengefully at Gavin’s sleeping figure.

“I could get acquitted. Geoff would gladly hire a lawyer for me, Ryan’s presence in the court would stop any harm from coming to me. Just one little stab-” Caleb squeezes the blade in his hands, the sighs. He’s really tired. 

The surgery is smoother than Lindsay’s. The bullet was lodged in the fleshy part his shoulder, so Caleb was able to remove it quickly, and he didn’t bother making the stitching up neat because after all the fuss Gavin gave him, he deserves a scar or two. Gavin wakes up as Caleb drops his tools in boiling water.

“Was it necessary to get Geoff and Ryan?” He groans from the table, testing his shoulder as he sits up slowly.

“Even with both of them there, Geoff still left with quite shiner.” Gavin’s face pales, imagining his boss’ wrath. He’ll probably get off easy. Geoff always had a soft spot for Gavin. “You’re free to walk around. Lindsay’s awake as well, if you wanna see her.” Gavin perks up and hops off the bench, mindful of his arm, and strides out the door. Caleb follows him, slowly, because after two high stress surgeries, his head isn’t doing so hot.

“Sorry boi. Didn’t mean to get you so riled up.” Is the first thing Caleb hears as he makes his silent entrance into operating room one.

“S’alright. Sorry I shot you.” Michael responds, and Gavin grins, wide and carefree. Lindsay’s resting against some pillows, and judging from her posture, Jack has already passed on the information on what she can and cannot do. Caleb relaxes. The room is filled with all he cares about, and he feels content. The room is also growing steadily fuzzier, and he’s swaying on his feet. Ryan glances at him, and the last thing he sees before he blacks out is a painted face contorting into shock.

When Caleb wakes up, he feels like he’s been run over by a train. The dropped into the ocean and thrown into the cooler, cause he’s fucking freezing Kdin turn up the heat you heathen.

He groans, and goes to stand up, but there are large hands pressing into his chest, stopping him from getting up.

“Caleb, I could’ve taken over you know.” Jack says, guilt in her voice. Caleb begrudgingly opens his eyes and turns to the left. “Why didn’t you tell us you weren’t feeling well?” Jack continues, a pained look on her face. Caleb simply smiles and winks.

“Doing shit I don’t wanna do is part of my job Jack. Been doing it for four years.” Jack laughs and smiles softly down at him. But there’s something to her smile that has Caleb’s stomach do a flip.

“Well, the only way for you to get better is for you to take some medicine. Let me whip something up for you.” There’s a dangerous edge to her tone, and Caleb watches in horror as the door closes behind her. He let’s his head drop onto the pillow.

“I’m gonna die.” He says, horror consuming his entire being, but the small sappy part of him quietly whispers at least you’re going to die happy.

Caleb agrees, just as quietly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally, bringing this to a conclusion, is Kdin. My dragon king. He'll be showing up soon!


	6. K-D-I-N

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> One afternoon in October, Kdin decides he's officially gonna get his name changed to John.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> DRAGON CHILD

_Caydon_

Kdin stares blankly down at the bubbly script on the side of his Starbucks coffee. He blinks once, twice, hoping that he just can’t read instead of accepting what’s on the cup. He blinks a couple more times, probably looking really freaking stupid, but the writing stays the same. Fucking Caydon.

“Holy shit.” He whispers, placing the intensely offensive object facing away from him. not too far away though. He paid five dollars for that, so like hell he’ll waste it.

“Kdin if I look up from the hood of this car and find Gavin’s dead body, you’re gonna either get a raise or get fired.” Geoff snaps over the comm. 

“Nah, I just owe Jeremy fifty bucks.”

“Fuck yeah! What’d I do?” Jeremy says, his excitement of finally being on a heist betrayed through his voice. 

“The fucker who made my drink, xey used an ‘o’ in my name.” 

“Xey?”

“Xey had a pronoun button.”

“Xey’s cool. Can you use Xey for me?” Gavin chirps suddenly, accompanied by the dull thuds of C-4 making contact with the old rusty pick-up truck they found in Matt’s garage. _(“I swear to god I have no idea how that got in here.” “Matt fucks banjos, confirmed.” “I will gut you Denecour.”)_

“Nah, Xey’s only for cool people. Stick to ‘him’ you basic bitch.” Ray snarks, and Kdin nearly snorts coffee onto the laptop perched precariously on the edge of the table. He’s got papers spread everywhere, and it’s paying off. No one spares a glance towards a procrastinating college student. Well, except the elderly couple two booths away from him. 

“Alright, I’m ready at the police station.” Jack says airily, but she’s in mom mode, Kdin can tell from the tightness and lack of fluff in her voice. “Everyone else?”

“I’m sitting at table 12, I’ve got the obnoxious amount of papers. Where are you guys?” Kdin says as he adjusts his phone, still disguising the comm. Jack makes an appreciative noise at the back of her throat.

“Team Jones and the Puerto Rican is in position. I got a clear view of Ryan, Geoff and Gavin from the roof so I can tell they’re ready too, despite the fact that Ryan’s kinda bent over the pickup, careful guys there’s C-4 on that thing don’t wanna jizz on it then blow up.”

“Ray Narvaez Jr, I will strangle you with your own entrails that I’ve pulled from your throat if you even think that I’d allow myself to be bent over a truck just like that. Power bottom all the way.” Ryan says, threateningly but with enough humour in his tone to be taken kind of lightly. Kind of. 

“Alllll right then Hive Mind you guys ready to do extraction?”

“Yup, we’ve even got Taco Bell for after.”

“When the fuck did you guys get Taco Bell? The closest place is out by Trevors, that’s at least a twenty minute drive, even driving illegally-”

“Dude, _Matt has Taco Bell_ that’s all that matters.” For one of the first times since Kdin’s joined the crew, Ryan sounds actually excited. Like, Ray and Pokemon Go excited. Kdin says so, and Geoff laughs so hard he wheezes.

“God damn guys, just fucking go I don’t even care anymore. Lord help us.” Geoff says between gasping breaths over the comm, harmonizing with the sound of squealing tires. Kdin pulls up the program disguised as a programming site, and waits for it to load. 

Around the 83% mark, the building shakes hard enough that the lights flicker and a couple of glasses fall onto the ground. Kdin looks up and around like everyone else does, noting that out of the corner of his eye, the program is loaded.

“God that took a while. Finally done my work though.” He says, and Jack immediately responds with “Allright, Kdin’s connected.”

Getting in is easy, easy enough that Kdin can see the trap before the screen focused. He quickly bypasses the easy traps, and gets into the police records department without a problem.

“GET THE MONEY IN THE FUCKING BAG” Geoff yells, accompanied by Gavin’s happy rambling of “That’s it love, keep doing that don’t mind me sir, your hat is stupid I’m going to shoot it off now.” and Kdin can practically feel Ryan’s ominous air from the coffee shop. He browses through the files and finds what they’re looking for. 

“Oh thank god my work is here, thought it got deleted. I’ll give the USB when we meet up, take your time though, it’s gonna be a while to download.” He says, and then chugs an obnoxious amount of his green tea chai thing. It’s pretty good, if he does say so himself. He glances at the files and gets an idea. It’s a stupid one, but it’ll be fine. Kdin hopes.

“Alright Team Jones you’re up.” Geoff says, slightly breathless. Kdin stares at the download percent, sees it hit 100 then whispers “Go.”

“LISTEN UP SHITHEADS HIT THE FUCKING DECK YOU’VE IF YOU DONT SOMEONE’S LEAVING NEUPGHFD AHH SHIT I BIT MY TONGUE” Michael screams, and there’s a dull thud signaling Ray dropping his head onto the roof opposite the coffee shop.

“Nice going champ oh my god I wish I had that recorded.” Ray wheezes.

“All comm tracks during the heists are recorded. I’ll send you the clip later.” Matt mutters, the faint ‘thwupping’ of the chopper in the background. Jeremy hums quietly in the background, some folk song Lindsay had playing through the apartment for a few days. 

Kdin unplugs the USB stick, and lowers himself on to the ground slowly. It’s silent, the radio playing faintly in the background. The air is completely still as Lindsay stalks up and down the rows of the shop. Brown leather boots enter his vision, and Kdin drops the stick into the back of the shoe. A gun is pushed against his head as a thanks, and Kdin relaxes. The hard part is over. The trembling cashier behind the counter slowly unloads stack after stack into the duffel bag on the counter and when Rihanna sings faintly _bitch better have my money_ , Michael’s gun wavers from trying not to laugh.

They leave as soon as the last bill is loaded into the bag, but Lindsay stops outside the shop to toss a wad of 20’s to the homeless man Kdin gave a five on his way in. “Team Jones is out, we are leaving immediately, the USB is secure.” Ray announces, and Kdin takes that as his cue to stand up shakily, and examine his surroundings.

 

There are various people still on the floor, in shock. The lady behind the counter is trembling, and her friend is shouting about how Xey just got winked at by Lindsay Jones and that Xey are about to scream. The elderly couple doesn’t even look fazed, they get up, give the girl behind the counter an enormous tip, and leave. The place is in chaos, people sobbing, screaming, staring blankly into the air. Kdin packs up his stuff in his backpack, drops the twenty with Lindsay’s casual hookup number on it onto the counter behind the barista who’s still celebrating Xer successful encounter, and leaves. 

“Fuck it, the place just got robbed anyways, don’t bother coming. I’ll meet you at your house. Bye.” He says into his phone, the he puts it into his pocket and walks away. 

He slips his headphones over his ears, no music playing, their only purpose being to his the comm system still running. He gently places his hand in the pocket of his hoodie, and feels the gun tucked into his pants. It's slightly comforting. Over the comm, Geoff shouts orders to Gavin and Ryan. Someone screeches “GONNA BLOW” and the sidewalk shakes as a huge plume of smoke erupts a couple blocks away.

“Man, it’s been awhile since the Fake AH Crew got out around. I’d hate to say it, but Los Santos has been getting kinda dull.” A random passerby comments to his friend as he stares idly at the huge mushroom cloud blotting out the sun.

“Los Santos boring? Have you been under a rock? Funhaus swept the street races a week ago. Honestly, how the fuck do they get those floating rigs to work?” His friend snorts back, giving him a friendly slap on the back, walking ahead. The passerby runs after him, yelling something about how he has a job unlike some people. Kdin grins.

October is one of his favourite months. The chill feels nice on his face and the city explodes into colour, the trees melting into reds and yellows. Halloween is coming up, and Geoff’s already planning costumes - he has been since August. Matt somehow engineered a device to specifically designed to throw turkeys, so their Thanksgiving isn’t going to be too peaceful. A bright pink sports car races past, followed by at least thirteen cop cars chasing after it. If anyone had been paying close attention, or had a comm like Kdin, they could’ve heard Gavin and Geoff harmonizing in a screech of “FUUUUUGZ” as they zoomed by.

He makes it back to the apartment in about fifteen minutes, choosing not to take the scenic route due to time constraints. He opens the door to Geoff’s apartment, and before he can shout his usual ‘WHAT UP SLUTS’, Steffie puts a hand against his lips.

“Trevor’s on a conference call about the distribution territories. Don't. Interrupt.” She says, eyes dark and voice low. God damn. 

“For someone who wears flower crowns and packs us lunches when we raid enemy bases, you’re pretty fucking terrifying.” He says, dropping his bag on the couch and making his way to the fridge.

“Flower crowns are the shit dragon boy. And my lunches were great.” She snaps back from the kitchen, and Kdin agrees. Her sandwiches were pretty good. A few minutes pass, comfortable silence as Kdin checks over the copy of the files on his computer and Steffie tidies up - once again.

“Thank god that’s over. Danny Sexbang is a _God_ ” Trevor groans, flopping onto the couch beside Kdin. Kdin pets his hair, mindful of the angry bruise in the back of his neck.

“Creatures making a fuss?”

“Nah, Ballas was getting bitchy over Jeremy’s recent push towards the outskirts. Danny was able to make a compromise on territory though, so we can’t go for the outskirts unless we want a fight.” Trevor buries his face into the pillow next to Kdin, but drapes himself over Kdin’s lap in the process.

“On the bright side, your nails are looking better.” Steffie says, flopping on the couch by Trevor’s feet. She lifts them up, slides next to Kdin, and places his feet over top of her lap.

“Steffie that has literally nothing to do with the conversation.”

“C’mon Kdin, don’t be a downer. Thanks Steffie, my nails _are_ looking better.” Trevor says, slightly muffled by the pillow.

“Want me to give you a manicure?”

“Fuck yeah. You too Kdin.”

 

“Only if they’re purple and have dragon wings.”

Caleb stumbles in as Steffie digs into a particularly bad cuticle, causing Kdin to swear at the top of his lungs. 

“You guys are painting nails? Why didn’t you call me?” Caleb says, shuffling over to the couch and flopping down on it.

“Cause you’re still sick.” Trevor says, leaning over to check Caleb’s temperature, then blinks in surprise. “Wow. Okay, never mind. You have like, no fever at all.”

“I’ve sleeping most of the day, and I just took some medicine. Can my nails be the brightest red you have? Geoff wants me in a sexy nurse costume for Halloween, so I just wanna see if red’s my colour.” Caleb puts his hands out, and Trevor starts rummaging through the bin of nail polish. 

\-------------------

“Are you guys doing your nails?” Geoff asks as they walk in, sweaty and bloody.

“We’re done ours.” Trevor says with his hands daintily placed on the counter top, hot pink and neon greens alternating on his nails, but on his ring fingers it’s painted to look like a strawberry. Caleb nods solemnly, his nails a deep blood red, his accent being a red cross against a white background. “Kdin’s doing Steffie’s.”

“He’s really good at it!” Steffie calls from the couch. Her nails are gentle pastel colours, pinks yellows and blues. Kdin growls at her to stop moving, because god damn it he’s doing good. His own nails are black with purple scales, and there’s a set of wings on his ring fingers.

“Why weren’t we invited? Lindsay pouts, dropping the bags of money on the floor by the counter, almost like they were groceries. Kdin stares at the action and quickly reminds himself that _this is his life now_. Tens of thousands of dollars dumped on the floor of the kitchen. He smiles to himself, and paints a final top coat on Steffie’s nails. 

“Where’s Matt and Jeremy?” Caleb asks.

“In the end they didn’t end up being extraction, but a distraction. They’ll be around soon.” Ryan says, and almost on cue, Matt and Jeremy stumble in, with two enormous plastic bags each.

“What’s that?” Geoff immediately asks, and Jeremy shoots him a grin.

“The Taco Bell kinda fell out of the chopper, so instead we got Pizza Hut.” Matt answers, lifting up the bag. Sure enough, the faint smell of garlic bread and marinara sauce wafts into the room.

“When the hell did you get pizza hut, you were in the chopper the entire time-”

“Just eat the fucking pizza.” Jeremy sighs, and flops onto the couch. The pizza is dumped onto the coffee table, and everyone files into the living room. They’re splayed over the sofas, Lindsay’s painting crowns onto Ryan’s as Gavin provides live commentary _“oohh, tease it, yes, perfect. Lovely crown.”_. Geoff and Michael are playing Go Fish, because they’re both too lazy to get the chips for poker. Ray and Jack are trying to see who can find the best meme, and apparently Jack’s winning judging by the faint airhorns, and Ray’s not so faint laughter, he’s doubled over and tears are streaming down his face.

“To think, that a year ago, all of us were attempting to pay rent by selling weed, and now we just pulled off one of the biggest heists of the year.” Matt remarks, the six of them clumped on the couch in some weird stunt-esque fashion. It’s precarious, but they pull it off anyways.

“I actually worked here for four years-”

“Caleb, you were a doctor they paid off for three years. You officially joined around the same time as us.” Jeremy snaps, and quietly Trevor mutters “Fucking get shit on.” Kdin snorts, and leans his head back.

They do the dirty work. They’re the ones who slave for hours on end over laptop and maps, collecting information and knowledge, setting up heist after raid and job. They’re sleep deprived, sick, tortured, stressed, creatively challenged, and exhausted. But in this moment, as the TV blares through the apartment, as Michael shrieks and Geoff laughs, Gavin giggles, Ryan smiles, Lindsay and Ray howl until they’re shaking and out of breath, and Jack watches all of them with a fond look in her eyes, Kdin is happy. Kdin’s happier than he’s ever been. He’s rich, drunk, engaged to the most beautiful human in the universe, and with dragon styled nails. He’s surrounded by the best people he’s ever known in his entire life and he’s happy.

Their news story comes on, and top notch footage of the car-bomb exploding, of Lindsay Michael and Ray on three respective motorcycles weaving in and out of cars, firing over their shoulders. They all let out a gasp as Ryan Gavin, Geoff and Jack zoom down the street, bullets peppering the street behind them, and yell in amazement as the neon green chopper Steffie worked so hard to get _again_ comes into frame, and they can distantly see Jeremy lean out the right side and fire a single rocket, taking down three police choppers at once.

“Fucking thing of beauty right there.” Michael slurs, gesturing with a hand holding both a beer bottle and a few cards towards the TV. They settle into the couches, and wait for the commercials, but Meg Turney comes back on screen. 

“The Fake AH Crew put on quite the show today, but they left one final surprise. According an insider, a virus has been uploaded into the police records. Shown in this footage every time the letters- well you see for yourself.” The shot cuts to a shaky vertical phone cam, and a deep rumbly familiar voice greets them.

“Alright, so the Fake AH Crew fucked some shit up today. But this takes the cake.” The anonymous voice (“Adam you blessing” Matt breathes, a slow smile creeping onto his face.) says. The view is of an entry into the database. And one letter at a time, Adam types.

J-O-H-N.

“JOHN CENA” The video blares, and distantly someone can be heard screeching “WHO THE FUCK SET OFF THE VIRUS”. The camera shakes with laughter, and Adam’s gleeful chuckling can be heard. It cuts back to Meg, who’s also on holding back giggles but no one’s paying attention to the TV anymore.

“Kdin, oh my god, you sexy beautiful motherfucker _you_ ” Geoff wheezes, crushing him in a hug, and Gavin glomps the two of them. The rest of the crew is in similar states, Lindsay has straight up fallen on the floor, wheezing and Ray is past the point of making any noise, his entire body is shaking with laughter. They’re drunk and rich, with pizza on the floor and laughter on their lips, high on gunfire, money, burning rubber, high on each other. Radiating energy and feeding off of each other they light up the living room, and the fire Geoff sparked blossoms into a bonfire.

Yeah, Kdin’s pretty happy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And thus concludes the B-Team! Thank you so much for your comments and your kudos', this series of stories will not be ending! I hope you enjoyed these little ficlets, and the adventures of the fake AH Crew shall not end just yet!


End file.
